


Feanor's Blood and Doriath's Bane

by KayleeArafinwiel, Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: Tales of the Elmoi [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/KayleeArafinwiel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We know Feanor had one grandson (Celebrimbor) but suppose he had more? Many of the Noldor who died in Doriath were faceless, nameless, dismissed as being under a curse. This story is an attempt to tell the story of the Curse of Feanor, the Doom of Mandos, which led one young Feanorion to death - and beyond, to hopeful redemption, as his second life is interwoven with that of the daughters of Doriath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mercy Found In Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Doriath fell, Celeborn and Galadriel guard not one, but two of the Woodland Realm's most precious treasures - and turn a dutiful son away from his father's madness.

The world is falling down around us. Here I stand, Prince of Doriath, guarding my grandniece as she sleeps in Galadriel's arms. Well do I know what lies wrapped in her blankets, obscured from the world. What my niece and her husband have died for. Well do I know that the Sons of Feanor are not finished searching. Indeed, it is not long before a young Noldo bursts into the royal nursery, eyes blazing. 

"Where is it, Sinda?" he demands of me. My hand goes to my sword, but Galadriel blinks in surprise.

"Alcarin?" His head jerks up and he stares at my wife, hands trembling. 

"Artanis...no....where is it? Where is it, Atar told me I have to find it..."

"Morifinwe," Galadriel said dismissively, "Caranthir does not know what he is doing. Sending his own son to be a killer?"

"Artanis...please don't make me kill you," the young Noldo begs, and Galadriel snorts at that. "Elfling, I could slit your throat before you had a chance to move. But I will not, because I am not going to play Morifinwe's game. Get you gone while you still have a chance."

"Atar will kill me."

"Then he's not much of an atar, is he?" is Galadriel's response. "Will you be loyal to the madness, or do the right thing?"

Alcarin dipped his head, staring at the floor.

"I'm sorry."

"Go then. You saw nothing. You heard nothing." Galadriel shooed him away as though he were a naughty elfling.

"I hope she makes it," Alcarin replied quietly, "and I will not lift my sword on another Sinda."

"Then I hope you survive as well, Alcarin. Be blessed." With my wife's blessing on him, Alcarin was gone.  
The world was still crashing down. But one calamity was averted. Yes, be blessed, son of Morifinwe, for staying your hand. Not all of the House of Feanor would be kinslayers.


	2. Dear Adar and Naneth...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the tale from Elwing's POV, we pick up some years later in Arvernien. It is Yule, and the little princess, under the care of her nurse Saelrien, writes to her parents about the most interesting event in her short life so far - a new friend.

_Dear Adar and Naneth,_

_Nurse says I can write to you on special days, now that I can write. It will be my gift to you. She also says she is surprised that I can write already, but it may be because of me being so different._

_I do not like being different. Nurse says different does not matter, and Auntie says the same. Auntie should know; she is very different. Nurse told me, in confidence, that Auntie was very naughty once and ran away from home. Would her adar and naneth not miss her? I miss you._

_Nurse also says that I am nearly old enough to know the family secret. I do not know if I want to know it. I am very little still. I should be littler. Nurse says I grow unnaturally fast. She believes it is because of the different, like I said._

_There is a new elfling who has come to live where we live now. He does not live in our house. He lives with his adar, and naneth. His naneth, who he calls Ammë, that is a different word for naneth, is a cousin of Auntie. Auntie used to be good friends with her auntie, before they ran away._

_Nurse and Auntie say he is different as well. In fact he is lots different. His ada is not even an elf. He is a human, but he does not mind that. His ada is very nice, and he likes sweets. Auntie gave him the recipe for your sweets...she told me they were yours...but that is not the family secret. The family secret is something I do not know yet._

_The elfling's name is Eärendil. I did not say that yet. I should have. Ear-endil. That is a strange name. He told me it means 'sea-lover'. That is because his ada loves the sea and he will too. He wants to grow up and build the best boat ever._

_Nurse is reading my letter and chuckling. She says I should say 'ship'. A ship is just a very big boat. Big boats are for big elves however, so it should be a ship. I suppose that is true._

_Did I tell you that Nurse is rather bossy sometimes? (She has gone away now, so I can write that.) She tells me that certain things are unladylike and I am a princess so I should not do them. Such as climbing trees. Did I say that is how I met Eärendil? I didn't, I think, but it was. I was in a tree and then he came up in my tree. He's very different from me. He has golden hair, like Auntie, and grey eyes. I have dark hair, and my eyes are like yours, Nana. Nurse says that. I'm sorry I don't remember, but I was only very little._

_I do not know what it is, but there is something about Eärendil. Something different. Not just the half human part, but...It just is, and it feels good. Something I need to find out. A mystery._

 

Elwing paused in her writing to change quills, for the one she had been given was beginning to blunt. As she reached for a new quill, her Nurse called out, "Elwing, aranel-nin, you have a visitor." Sighing, the little one picked up the old quill and scribbled,

 

_I am sorry, Ada, Nana, but Nurse is calling. I will continue to write some other time._

_Love,_

_Elwing_

 

The letter lay untouched for the rest of the day, and Elwing only remembered it the next morning, after breakfast. She returned to her writing desk, nibbling her lip a little. What if her parents thought she had forgotten them? She had forgotten the letter, but on the other hand, she would have so much to tell them…With her thoughts turning toward happier things, Elwing sat down at her desk and picked up a quill pen, writing as she remembered the events of the previous day.

 

Elwing ran to the parlour where the guests would be received, skidding to a halt just as Nurse called to her, "Mind your manners, my princess. We do not run inside. It is not ladylike." Sighing, Elwing called, "Yes, Nurse." She looked inside, and beamed. Eärendil was there! She gave the half-Elven boy a shy wave, biting her lip as she studied the Man and elleth who sat on each side of him. They must be his parents, though she had not had the chance to meet them before, just hear about them.

 

Eärendil grinned widely back at his new friend, revealing a gap toothed smile, where some of his adult teeth were growing in. The little Prince missed his Anatar and their other friends and family from Gondolin very much, but he liked this new home, by the sea. It was a cool, sunny day, the kind of day that just begged small children to go play outside. And his Ammë and Atto had agreed that he and Elwing might build a tree house in the large tree nearest their new house.

 

Tuor smiled gently at the small princess, of all the beings in the world, in some ways the most like his beloved son. "We give you greeting, my Lady Princess," the Man offered, "and would like to invite you to come play with Eärendil, this fine afternoon, and to sup with us this evening."

 

Idril, for her part, rose and swept a curtsey to the little girl, who returned it shyly. Idril came and took Elwing's hand, leading her into the room. "We would be most honoured if you would accept, dear Princess," she entreated, and Elwing blushed. "I give you greeting, my Lord, my Lady," Elwing said slowly, stumbling over the formal words, "and I thank you. I will accept gladly, if my Nurse will permit." Idril kissed the little girl's cheek. "She has already given her consent, dear one. And you need not worry about titles with us, for we are akin in rank. I, too, was Princess in my father's realm."

Eärendil smiled again, wanting to tell Elwing about the tree house, but knowing he must wait. His Ammë had told him her nurse might not approve, and that it would be better to ask for forgiveness than permission. So he just said, "Wait until you see our new house, Elwing! I've a surprise for you!"

 

Tuor grinned tolerantly at his son, as he and Idril bid farewell to Elwing's nurse, and led the children down the street to their new home. The brisk breeze smelled of the sea, and pine, and good foods cooking for the feasts at the end of the season. His smile disappeared, as he thought of how many friends and family would not see the celebration, this year. Then his wife squeezed his hand, and he had to laugh and Eärendil and Elwing, as they chased a startled seagull from his sedate walk down the cobbled streets.

Elwing giggled at the seagulls. "They're funny birds, Eärendil. Nurse says we didn't have any of them in our first home. They like the sea best, and fish." She looked at Eärendil curiously. "What were you saying about a surprise?"

 

Eärendil giggled a bit at the startled, aggrieved squawk the seagull made, as it flew away when they ran up to see it. "Oh! A great surprise! We've a lovely old tree behind our new house, Elwing. And Ammë and Atto say that they will help us to build a little house in it, just our size! A place where no adults can come, unless we invite them. We can start today - Atto borrowed all the tools we shall need from the carpenters and ship makers."

 

Elwing's eyes widened. "A real house?" she asked, turning to look at Tuor and Idril, behind them. Idril laughed softly. "A real house, dear one." She gave Elwing a gentle smile. "We'll let the ellyn sort out building it, dear, and you and I can decorate it, what do you think?" Elwing nodded happily. She'd like to help with the building, a little, but she couldn't do too much, or Nurse would scold.

 

Eärendil shrugged, content to do as his father had told him and simply accept the mysteries of ellith. He couldn't imagine anyone not liking sawing wood and hammering nails into wood.

 

But he wanted Elwing to have a good time, so he offered, “Ammë, you said you might bake sweet rolls. Maybe Elwing could help you, if she gets tired of building."

 

"I'd like to help with the building, even though Nurse says it's not ladylike," Elwing said. "Maybe for just a little bit." Idril gave her husband a wry smile at that. "What do you think of that, beloved?" She thought Tuor would find that rather amusing, but knew he wouldn't let either of the children get hurt.

 

Tuor was amused, and gave the little Princess an encouraging smile, and his wife a wink. "Perhaps we could all work on the house; it should go up quickly enough. Then we can all make sweet rolls, and you two can enjoy them in your new tree house."

 

"Can we? You're a grown-up," Elwing said anxiously to Idril, who laughed merrily in return. "Oh yes, of course I will join the rest of you, and then it will indeed go much more quickly." Elwing beamed up at her. "You will? Really?" Idril nodded. "Shall I tell you a secret, my dear?" Elwing nodded solemnly, and Idril swept the girl into the folds of her cloak, scooping her up. Elwing clung to Idril as the elleth whispered to her. "Really?" Elwing squealed. "But Nurse wouldn't like that at all. I thought being a grown-up meant you had to be a proper lady."

 

Idril's eyes twinkled. "Ah, but my Ada taught me. I didn't have a Naneth to teach me to be a proper lady, you see," Idril said, hugging the child. "Me, either," Elwing said, returning the hug.

Eärendil felt sorry for his new friend Elwing. "I'll share my Ammë and Atto with you, Elwing." He offered gallantly.

 

Tuor suppressed a smile at his son's noble, sharing nature, although normally he liked to be asked before he was offered to other children as a surrogate parent. But Elwing was special, like Eärendil. If Idril hadn't taken precautions, it could be their child, alone to be raised by young, grieving retainers.

"Thank you," Elwing said, snuggling into Idril's side. Idril scooped Eärendil up in her other arm and held both children. "I will share gladly, little one," Idril said softly. "I know what it is like to be without a Naneth, though I had an Aunt who loved me very much. Still, I did not see her often."

 

"I have an Auntie, too," Elwing said, "but I do not see her often either. Maybe I can share her when she comes," Elwing suggested. Idril gave Elwing a radiant smile and kissed her dark hair. "I believe I already know this Auntie of yours, dearest. I would be honoured to share her, when she comes to see you."

Eärendil thought an auntie sounded fine enough. "Will your auntie visit for Yule, Elwing?" He asked his friend.

 

"I do not know," Elwing said truthfully. Idril smiled. "Well, little ones. I think she might, but even if she does not, no doubt she will send her greetings; would you not say so, beloved?"

 

Tuor, who had not yet met Galadriel, thought that sounded likely enough from Idril's description of her. His father had known the Lady, and fought alongside her during the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. "I think so." He agreed, "And if not for Yule, perhaps we shall see her in the spring." As they arrived at their new home, Tuor started directing the construction of the Tree House, letting Eärendil assist in the planning and direction as much as possible, even when it required a few extra steps. Soon enough, the structure was built, complete with a roof of sail cloth. The four elves admired their creation, and retired to the kitchen for sweet rolls and cider.

 

Taking several sweet rolls, Eärendil urged Elwing to come with him into their newly built treehouse. "We can see the ocean from here, Elwing, isn't that fine?" He enthused.

 

Elwing took some cider for them both, and accepted help climbing up the ladder into the tree house. "I like to watch the ocean," Elwing said, looking out at the ocean. "It changes colors, I think. Nurse says that it changes to show whether Lord Ossë is angry or sad or happy that day, and if the mariners should sail or not."

 

"Atto says I may go out, with the fishing boats, next week." Eärendil mentioned, assisting Elwing to spread a blanket on the pleasant smelling boards of the tree house. "I want to be a mariner, when I am grown." Smiling at the slightly younger child, he asked, "Do you know what you want to be, Elwing?"

 

Elwing frowned, and shook her head slightly. "Nurse says I am a princess, and I must be a proper lady when I am grown up. I do not like that," she said. "Adar and Naneth had begun talks for me to marry one of my cousins when we were grown, for we were born mere days apart. But Nurse says it was never made really, truly real. I do not have to marry him, I suppose. He is not here anyway."

 

Eärendil found that confusing, but tried to be polite. His Ammë had told him that the customs of Doriath, where Elwing had been a Princess, were very different from the customs of Gondolin, where his family was from. Even so, there was something that his Ammë and Atto had told him, that seemed just as relevant to Elwing, as to them.

 

"My parents say that we all lost a lot, having to leave our homes. But that there is one thing about starting anew here, that can be good, if we let it be. We still have a responsibility to the elves who survived the falls of our Kingdoms, and came to this place with us. But we are more free, here, to become whoever we want to be." Eärendil offered Elwing another sweet roll, and said softly, "I think you and Ammë are the only Princesses here. You and she can probably make that mean whatever you want, I think."

 

Straightening, Tuor's gallant son continued, "And I'll marry you, if you like. If you were my wife, you could climb trees with me, and go sailing, and learn to use a sword, or not. Whatever you wanted." Elwing was the most interesting girl Eärendil had ever met. He didn't want her to marry some other elf. Not without considering him, at least. Not that he wanted to get married for a while yet, but his Ammë always said it was important to plan ahead.

 

Elwing smiled. "You really mean it, Eärendil? You'd want me to marry you?" She nibbled on her sweet roll. "Would your atto and ammë say it was all right?" She hoped so.

 

Eärendil nodded earnestly, "You're the best girl I've ever met, of course I want to marry you. No other elleth has ever wanted to climb trees with me, except Ammë. And Ammë and Atto like you, too, I can tell. I'll ask them just to be sure, but I think they'd like for me to marry you, when we're old enough."

Elwing nodded. "I'd like that. I wish I could ask mine, but I haven't got them, only Nurse, and Auntie, if she comes. I hope they don't mind."

 

Eärendil reached out and squeezed Elwing's hand. "I'm sorry that you don't. I hope they don't mind, too." He brightened. "But if we convince my Ammë and Atto, they can convince your nurse and auntie. They're very persuasive." Everyone always said so. "But we have a couple of hours until we have to go in for dinner, and we can ask then. For now, do you want to play pirates? The treehouse can be our ship, and the pirates are attacking us, but we fend them off. We have to imagine the pirates, but it will be fun anyway."

Elwing nodded. "What are pirates like?" she asked. "I've never played pirates before."

 

"Pirates are orcs and bad men that live on the water." Eärendil explained. "Lord Círdan warned Atto to watch out for them." Eärendil’s face hardened, "When I grow up, I'm going to find a way to stop the orcs and the bad men and all the other creatures that serve Morgoth from hurting good elves and men anymore. Not just the pirates, but all of them. I'm going to find a way to stop them all." Eärendil was quite sure this was necessary.

 

Morgoth's servants had brought down Gondolin, but Eärendil was going to show Morgoth that this had been a mistake. Eärendil was going to find a way to bring down Morgoth. He knew he couldn't do it himself - He thought great-grandfather Fingolfin had been an idiot for trying to do it that way. Eärendil was going to be like his parents, and build alliances. Somewhere, there had to be somebody, or a group of somebodies, who were powerful enough to stop Morgoth from attacking the good elves and men. Eärendil was going to find them, and get them to help. But that was a task for another day.

 

"To play pirates," he explained to Elwing, “we just pretend that they're attacking our ship, and then we get to decide whether to stand and face them, or to run away, and maybe lead them into an ambush. Then we fight the pirates." Eärendil pulled out his toy weapons. "Here, you can have whichever you like. I have a bow and arrows, and a sword and shield."

 

"Can I try the sword and shield, please?" Elwing asked. Idril had told her a great secret; that she had learned to fight with sword and shield from her own Ada, Eärendil's Daerada Turgon. Elwing didn't have her own Naneth to look up to, so she had decided she wanted to be just like Princess Idril. Also, her Auntie Galadriel was an accomplished fighter. Elwing was not afraid, she decided, not of pirates or anything else.

 

"Of course." Eärendil agreed, making a mental note to ask his Atto if they could give Elwing her own toy weapons as a Yule-tide gift, so that they could both have swords, and practice together, and fight imaginary enemies together. "Have you ever held a sword before?" He asked his friend kindly, "If not, I can show you how."

 

"I haven't, because Nurse says it's not right for a princess," Elwing said, sounding slightly exasperated with her caretaker. "Would you, please?" She held the sword rather clumsily, looking at Eärendil in question.

 

"Of course. Ammë and even...even my Anatar, they always say it’s important to know how to defend yourself, even if you don't want to be a soldier." Eärendil replied, getting up to stand beside Elwing, and gently adjust her grasp of the sword.

 

"You hold it like this, with your fingers here. Once you've learned the basic hold, and practiced with it, you can find one that is more comfortable for you, but you should learn this one first. The sword is heavier than normal because it has plugs of lead set into it, to make it heavier to help me be ready for a real sword when I'm older. So you need to brace your feet, like this, to better direct the weight. This is a small broadsword, so these are the motions that it is best suited for," Eärendil explained, walking Elwing through some of the basic training he'd received from his parents and his Anatar's knights and soldiers.

 

The children played happily for several hours, until Tuor called them in for dinner. Tuor smiled at the windswept children as they washed their hands.

 

Once they were seated at the table, Eärendil, who seemed to enjoy rendering his parents incoherent with shock from time to time, said, "I've decided I want to marry Elwing." Tuor looked to his wife in surprise. At the age of seven, matrimony had not been a subject which was high on his mind.

 

"Is that so, yonya?" Idril asked, calmly studying her son. "And what do you think of that, Elwing?" she asked.

"Please, Emya," Elwing begged, causing Idril to blink in surprise, though she recovered quickly. "Emya, Atya, please?" Elwing asked, and Idril's lips twitched in amusement. She was sure Tuor had been struck speechless by the child's form of address, and she whispered, "Well, our little one did offer to share us, after all."

 

Tuor nodded, still somewhat taken aback, "I think it is a fine idea, my children." He included Elwing as well in that address, "though I think you should wait you are both at least twenty, to wed. But we would be most pleased with you, Elwing, as a daughter. Perhaps, if your nurse approves, you will honor us by spending much time in our home, so that we may know the joy of having a daughter, as well as a son." Under his breath, to his wife, Tuor added, "Eärendil grows like a Man, and Elwing seems to, as well. They may well be ready to wed, by twenty years of age."

 

Idril nodded in return. "We should be pleased to have you, yeldenya," she added, addressing Elwing, who blushed a little. "But as your atto says, not until you are at least twenty."

 

_Not until I am at least twenty, Ada, Nana,_ Elwing wrote in her next letter.

_Not until I am at least twenty, will I wed the son of Tuor and Idril. But already they welcome me as a daughter. I know we are meant for each other. Nurse knows it too; she says that on the day we join together…that is the day that she will place me in charge of our secret. For now, secrets do not matter._

_Lord Tuor and Lady Idril invited us over often, and we returned the favour. It has been a happy Yuletide for Eärendil and I, for we both got what we wanted. I gave Eärendil a boat. It is not a very big boat, but it is big enough to sail in the stream. He gave me one as well. Lord Tuor carved them both, though I did not know he was making one for me when I asked him to help me with one for Eärendil. He must have been most pleased at the jest._

_Lady Idril gave us matching cloaks, of midnight blue spangled with silver stars, like the night sky, each one painstakingly embroidered. She said this way we would always recognize each other in the crowds. I think that is very useful; something clever that you would have maybe thought of, Nana._

_And Nurse gave us cakes, the way she always does. I hope that wherever you are in the West now, you can have a happy Yule. Someday Eärendil and I will see you and we can tell you how much we love each other…and how much I love you._

_Always,_

_Elwing, Princess of Doriath._


	3. Giving and Receiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of "Dear Adar and Naneth", Elwing pens a quick note to her beloved Uncle Cel, and gets a favourable response.

_Dear Uncle Cel,_

 

_Nurse says it is not proper for me to call you so. She says I should call you Prince Celeborn, or my Prince, as Adar and Naneth did, though they were King and Queen. I just wanted to know if it was all right._

 

_I have met a very interesting boy. His name is Earendil, and he is different, like I am, not a real elf. His ada is not even an elf. His ada, who he calls Atto, is a Man, Lord Tuor._

 

_He offered to share his parents with me. Actually, he said I could marry him, even though Ada and Nana wished for me to marry my cousin. I do not know where my cousin is, and he said if I was his wife, I could climb trees and fight with swords, and no one would care. Lord Tuor and Princess Idril said I might call them Atya and Emya, and that they would have me for daughter and their son's bride, when I am twenty._

 

_What do you and Auntie think of that, Uncle Cel?_

 

_Love,_

 

_Elwing, Princess of Doriath_

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

 

_My dear niece,_

 

_Of course it is quite all right to call me Uncle Cel in private letters. I can see why your Nurse would be upset about your doing so in public, but after all, you are a princess; a princess without a realm. Doriath is no more. Be a child while you can, my dear one; you will grow all too quickly._

 

_You have met the son of Tuor and Idril, and he has asked for your hand? Well then, that quite proves my point. I am glad you have someone about your age to be friends with, and in time, yes, perhaps more. I have been to see Oropher and Vehiron; they agree that your betrothal to Saeldur is no longer needful unless you should wish it, and since you do not, it is all right. By the looks of things, you will grow to womanhood sooner than he is an ellon grown, and it is better for you to wed someone whose pace matches more easily with yours. You have my blessings, and your aunt Galadriel's._

 

_With much love,_

 

_Uncle Cel,_

 

_Lord Celeborn, once Prince of Doriath_

__._,_.___

 


	4. Athrabeth Celeborn ah Celebrimbor (The Conversation of Celeborn and Celebrimbor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On an anniversary of the Fall of Doriath, Celeborn's pain is mellowed by joy, while Celebrimbor looks on in envy and sorrow as he congratulates his brother ruler...

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.  
"You have a daughter." Joyful tears pricked Lord Celeborn's eyes. It was the best of times indeed, for his family had grown.

  
It was the worst of times, for only a handful of yeni had passed since, on this very day, his family had fallen, cut down by the sharp blades of Kinslayers' swords.

  
He who was once Prince of Doriath now co-ruled with the heir of one of those Kinslayers. Who would have thought it?

  
It was the best of days; it was the worst of days. Which ought he to remember?

  
"Celeborn." He looked up sharply. "Oh...Celebrimbor." Pain twisted Celeborn's fair features, and he was surprised...but only for a moment...to see the same pain written on his co-ruler and erstwhile friend's face. Then he remembered.

  
"You grieve for your loss, too," Celeborn murmured. Celebrimbor's father had died in Doriath. Kinslayer or no, he had been a father, too. He had a son. Curufin's son stood in front of him now, looking into his eyes.

"I am sorry, Celeborn." Celebrimbor sighed. "But I wished to congratulate you on the birth."  
"Thank you." A smile ghosted across Celeborn's face. "Today is not just a day for loss."

  
"May the Valar bless your family, even as they have cursed mine."

  
"They have blessed you," Celeborn corrected, "with a friend."  
"Thank you, Celeborn." Celebrimbor sat beside Celeborn as the Sinda returned to the letter he'd been writing, and for once, on this day, the two were able to smile properly.


	5. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcarin makes a pilgrimage to the place of his grandfather's death. 
> 
> The definition of "Formenos", North Fortress, is something I learned from Fiondil's "In Darkness Bound." "Formandos" means "North Prison" rather than "North Fortress" The geography of Valmar and its surrounding environs is based on Fiondil's.

_Everyone avoided the tower. It was believed to have been the last remnant of Formenos, the North Fortress. Superstitious ones even now called it "Formandos"...at least the ones who believed Feanaro's exile had been imprisonment. Everyone avoided the tower...until one day, a hooded rider was spotted turning onto the Mall' Etellerroron, the road that curved away from the North Road out of Valmar and toward the old fortress. The Elves who saw the hooded rider go were curious about his identity, but not so curious as to follow..._

 

The lone rider slowed as hoofbeats came across the desolate ground. Why had he not heard a pursuer?  _Of course,_ he thought sardonically. _A Maia or one of the Elves loyal to the Valar, come to see you are a good little elfling and do not stray from your place._

 

He turned, brushing a lock of raven hair back from his face, and met the eyes of a dark-haired elleth. There was something hauntingly familiar about her; he felt he should know her. _Valar damn it,_  he thought,  _why must I be cursed with this...this... **  
**_"You do not know me?" the elleth asked. Shrugging, he scowled.

 

"You interrupted my ride."

  
"You choose a strange place to ride, Morifinwion."

 

 _Morifinwion._ Alcarin Morifinwion. Alcarin, son of Caranthir...He nodded briefly. "If I am strange, so are you," Alcarin pointed out drily.

 

"I am here because you are here."

 

"Why?" Alcarin demanded.

 

"Why are  _you_ here?" the elleth countered. Alcarin scowled at the maddeningly familiar companion the Valar had seemingly thrust on him.

 

"It is none of your business, elleth. Go away."

 

"I'm not."

 

"Not what? An elleth?"

 

"Yes. No. Maybe," she said, flashing a smile at him.

 

Alcarin growled. "I said  _go away_ , you  _stupid_ elleth." He frowned. "You're not a  _Maia **,**_ are you?"

 

"Hmm..." she murmured, not answering his question.

 

"It's not fair that you know who I am, and I do not know you," Alcarin pointed out.  
"Do you not?" The elleth... _possibly a Maia,_ he corrected himself uneasily...looked rather pleased at that.

 

"By your look I would take you for a Sinda," Alcarin said cautiously. They were riding together now, riding along the Mall' Etellerroron as companions. "But what Sinda would I find here, on Valinor itself?"

 

"Oh, I am not merely one of the Sindar," came the reply. The elleth hummed softly to herself. "You might say I have an interest in this place," she added, looking up as the old tower of Formenos loomed in the distance. "I quite like towers."

 

"I have come to seek my anatar's grave and pay my respects to Finwe Noldoran," Alcarin told the elleth.

 

His companion nodded. "I suppose you might say I came out of curiousity," she said. "To see where it all began; this declaration that entwined my people's fates with yours."

 

"I killed one," Alcarin admitted, turning his head aside. "A little girl; she was crying for her mother and father, who were dead. But after that...after that, I...things changed."

 

"Aunt Galadriel entreated you to change." She abruptly changed the subject. "I want a closer look." Suddenly, she was just  _not there. **..**_ and a white sea-bird soared above Alcarin's head, letting out a cry before heading for Formenos. The Reborn Noldo paused as realization struck, and the familiar elleth's identity fell into place.

 

 _Valar help me,_ he thought. _Never did I think to see her again._

 

It was, all in all, a very strange day.


	6. Telpetári...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In T.A. 2509, Celebrian was making the journey from Imladris to Lothlorien over the Hithaeglir (Misty Mountains) through the Pass of Caradhras, when they were set upon by orcs. Accompanying her were her chief ladies, including her devoted Niniel, and her guards, including Niniel's husband Magolion (these two are AfricanDaisy's and my OC's and have known both Celebrian and her naneth Galadriel since they were young.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niniel calls Celebrian by the Quenya form of her name, Telpetári. Neither she or Magolion are particularly fond of Sindarin, so Niniel generally speaks Quenya to Celebrian.

"Telpetári!"

How many times over the yéni have I heard that from my former nursemaid's lips? Snapped in exasperation at my wild and tomboyish ways, crooned with fondness as she cooed over my beauty. But now...this time, for the first time, it is a scream of terror. Terror rending the air. I am in a daze. Surrounded by the peaks of the _Hithaeglir_ , we have been set upon by yrch.

_"Telpetári!"_

Again, louder. Niniel is frantic. I draw my sword and fight alongside my escort. These hours of training may have earned Niniel's disapproval, but now I sense naught but horrified, reluctant acceptance. She bears no weapon. She knows not what to do.

 

Magolion, her husband, rides at the head of our party. He fights fiercely, a determined glint in his eyes. A fell warrior is he; he has no charm, no love  for the folk of the Sindar, my father's kin, but though my cousin Thranduil is wont to call him 'son of yrch', yrch are his greatest foes, and now he shows it. Steel flies. Then arrows. Blood...where did that come from? Am I wounded? I do not feel it.

 The next thing I see is a whirl of russet gold, Niniel's hair flying unbound as she throws herself before me and we tumble to the ground. "Telpetári! Pitya lapsë...yeldenya, hinya, blood, there is so much blood...Telpetári..." She is frantic, holding me. "My sons..." I gasp. "They are coming, Niniel...my sons..." I have no time for her refusal to stop coddling me.

  
"It is too late," Niniel whispers, clutching me close to her, and my hope begins to die. Is this truly the end? "Tye-melin, ammelda yeldenya...Telpetárinya..." _My Telpetári._

 

 "Tye-melin, Niniel," I respond, as darkness swims up to claim me. The last thing I feel is her body going limp, before oblivion swallows me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quenya:
> 
> Telpetári - "silver queen", Quenya equivalent of "Celebrian"  
> Pitya lapsë...yeldenya, hinya - Little baby, my daughter, my child (while Bri isn't literally her daughter, she thinks of her that way as she was Bri's nursemaid).  
> Tye-melin, ammelda yeldenya - I love thee, my best beloved daughter


	7. Healing at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrian is sent into the West, and is met there by Celeborn's mother Baraves, now a skilled Healer. Baraves' POV.

"Wounded! We need all Loriennildi and Estenduri to the quay!" I spin on my heels and race in the direction of the call. Reborn though I am, I have found my calling as a servant of Este. What I do _not_ expect is the wan, pale face that looks up from the litter...the image of my son, had he only been born a daughter. Her eyes are bluer, but she is his daughter, I can feel it. A pang strikes at my heart. "Who is she?" I whisper to her attendant.

 

"Celebrian," is his reply, equally soft. "Celebrian, daughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, here called Artanis." That flighty Golodh! I shake my head at that. I have never thought much of the Golodhrim, they who called us _Moriquendi._ Dark Elves, indeed...

But I have no time to think of prejudices against the Golodhrim. As Hir Bannoth told we Reborn, all is forgiven, all debts paid. She is my daeriel, I am her daernaneth; that is all that matters. "Do you hear me, Celebrian?" Her eyes try to focus on mine, as I take her hand. "My name is Baraves. I am..."

"Daernaneth," comes the throaty whisper. "Adar told me..."

"Yes, child. Shh...you are hurting. Do not overtax yourself. It is well. I am here. Daernaneth is here, my darling girl."

"You...and Nana..."

"It does not matter, pen-neth. _She_ did not hold that sword," I say bracingly, "nor did she approve of those who did. Hush now, my love, Daernana will look after you." Obediently, Celebrian quiets herself, eyes drifting shut.

I will see her healed. As we take her to our camp with the other wounded, I hear the story from her escort, and shudder. Yrch! Creatures of darkness, servants of the Dark Lord...ai, my poor, poor daeriel. Even her husband, one of the greatest healers in Ennor, could not see her healed...but here, under my care, she will come back to herself.

 

Someday...someday she will be well, and have her family again. For now, she has me, and that is as good a beginning as any. "I love you, child," I murmur over her, settling her into bed and tucking the blankets round her. "Sleep now, all will be better in the morning." I shall see to that, or my name is not Baraves, wife of Galadhon...which it most certainly is. _Goodnight, my darling. Sleep well._


	8. Telpetári and the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While healing in Lorien, Celebrian has a rather unexpected visitor.

_"Daernana will take care of you, my darling."_ The voice floated above her as she rested in the gardens of Lorien, in the place where those who needed healing and repose dwelt. Loriennildi and Estenduri alike tended to her, though Baraves remained her main caregiver. Slowly but surely, the Lady of Imladris regained her strength.

 It could have been weeks, months, coronari; time flowed slowly in Lorien in the West, even as it had in her home in Middle-Earth. Lothlorien was but a shallow copy, a pale echo of the realm she now occupied, and Celebrian could truly not discern how long she had remained within its borders. Baraves had left her to her rest for a time, when one of the Maiar of Irmo appeared before her, the scent of rosemary filling Celebrian's pavilion as the Maia crossed to her sleeping couch.

 

"Greetings to you, Child. My name is Melyanna of the People of Irmo." Celebrian's mind whirled as she realised the implications of that statement.

"M-Melian...Bereth Melian?" She sat up and blinked slowly, trying not to stare at the Maia, who was not garbed in the usual tabard of Irmo's People.

 

Melyanna's hair hung in gentle waves over her shoulders and down her back to below her waist. It was not black, for that is too small a word; it was the deepest and darkest depths of a midnight sky, and the moonstones strung through it were the stars. Her raiment was a stunning snowy gown layered in delicate satin and decorated with pearls, whilst a white and gold beaded belt hung loosely upon her slim waist. Unshod were her feet, and the jewels she wore upon her fingers and around her elegant neck were dazzling diamonds.

 

"I have not been acting Queen for a long time, child," Melian said, "though I arrayed myself as such today, and they are still my husband's people."

  
"And yours, with the greatest respect, my Lady," Celebrian said, though there was a note of stubbornness and even reproof in her tone. "Why did you leave them?" Her tone was laden with belligerence, and Melian shook her head slowly.

 

"That does not sound particularly respectful, Celebrian," Melian observed, though she did not sound particularly disapproving. Celebrian's cheeks flushed, but she held her head up proudly, staring up from her seat on the sleeping couch. "Well...fine then, it isn't," Celebrian conceded, but she did not sound particularly sorry.

 

"It was not respectful, no, Child," Melian replied, and she locked her steady gaze on Celebrian. Though Melian had clothed herself in form not unlike an Elf's, there was something in her gaze which spoke of a time more ancient than even the eldest of the Firstborn could appreciate; laden with sympathy, sorrow, and wisdom of Ages uncounted.

 

"It was not respectful, but it was quite understandable. Tell me, best beloved. Why did _you_ leave?" Melian asked, taking Celebrian's hands in her own. Celebrian squirmed under the Maia's unwavering gaze, unable to avert her eyes and feeling like an elfling of ten.

 

"I hurt too much to stay," she whispered. "I was losing them. My husband, my children...it hurt too much. I was dying...I would have died if I had not gone..."

 

Melian lifted Celebrian from the couch and wrapped Celebrian in her embrace. "There now, best beloved. I am not angry. But do you see, then? I, too, was a wife and mother. My husband and children had gone before me. Some no doubt think me a fool, heartless or careless to leave my husband's realm ungirded. Yet, it was not always protected so, and even the Girdle did not stop the children of Aule in their senseless slaughter, or the wolf Carcharoth in his thirst for blood."

  
Celebrian bowed her head in agreement, and rested her cheek against Melian's shoulder. "I am sorry, my Queen."

 

"Aunt Melian, if it pleases you, best beloved," Melian murmured. "Do not fear, I am not angry." Celebrian nodded.

  
"Thank you...Aunt Melian." She stayed in Melian's arms, reassured, and sleep claimed her once more. 


	9. An Apple A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Celebrian sailed, the elleth was put in the care of her no-nonsense grandmother, Healer Baraves. Would Elrond's lady survive her grandmother's best interests?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baraves is mine and Emma's OC, the wife of Galadhon, mother of Celeborn and grandmother of Celebrian. Tatharien is the OC wife of Galadhon's brother Gwathion (another of our OCs), and they are the paternal grandparents of Oropher, the father of Thranduil. This story features Baraves in the West, after she is Reborn and has set aside her aristocratic silks and satins (but not attitude lol) for healer's robes. Written for the LOTR_Gfic "Sweet or Savoury Recipefic, October 2014" Challenge.

T.A. 2510, Lórien, Aman  
  
Anor was sailing high in the sky above the Gardens of Lórien, and yet Celebrían had failed to rise from her bed. Baraves was vexed – she had seen Celebrían waken before, and yet today she refused. “Daeriel,” Baraves said sharply, a legacy of her former self. “Little girl, wake up.” She placed a hand on Celebrían’s forehead. The elleth was feverish, but not so much as she had been. “I know you are awake, little girl,” Baraves continued, as the elleth flinched away from her touch. “Sit up. I have your medicine for you, and water.”  
  
Celebrían shook her head weakly and tried to push Baraves away. “No…” she pleaded, “please, go away, I do not want it.”  
  
“You will take your medicine, little girl,” Baraves said shortly. Celebrían looked at her, glassy-eyed, and tried again to push her away, but Baraves was having none of it.  
  
“Do you want me to get Bereth Melian?”  
  
Celebrían cringed. No, she did not want her Maia aunt – or grandmother by marriage – involved, she thought, and swallowed the bitter syrup reluctantly. She sipped from the water goblet Baraves held for her, all the while hating her weakness, her dependence on Daernaneth Baraves. Her adar’s naneth took no argument from her when it came to her care; strict and severe, she would have her way or Celebrían would be sorry.  
  
Did Baraves not think she was sorry enough? Was not this illness punishment enough?  
  
“I am determined to see you healed from this malady, little girl,” Baraves said, as though Celebrían had spoken aloud. Perhaps she had, Celebrían thought, cheeks reddening as Baraves continued to scold her. “You will not fade. You will not die. I will not disappoint my son…oh, very well, and that Golodh, assuming she takes ship some time or other…by having you die on me.”  
  
“Please, Daernaneth…” Celebrían had to stop, for she had a sudden fit of coughing, and Baraves made her breathe deeply and slowly when it was over, into some sort of tube to strengthen her lungs. Celebrían did so extremely unwillingly.  
  
“Please what, little girl?”  
  
“Please,” Celebrían continued weakly, “can I not have something nice? All these bitter potions, powders, broths and syrups…I would like something sweet. Just once.”  
  
“We will see,” was Baraves’ unsatisfactory response. “Try and get up now.” She assisted Celebrían from her pallet, but the elleth was so weak that she promptly tumbled back onto it.  
  
“Mayhap if I had something sweet I would be stronger,” Celebrían suggested.  
  
Elflings, Baraves thought in irritation. “I said, we will see.” She insisted on Celebrían trying again, with the same frustrating result, and huffed with displeasure.  
  
Still, when she left Celebrían to sleep again, Baraves went straight to Master Mithlas to consult with him. The Doriathrin healer listened carefully, and nodded. “Apples,” he said after some thought. “Apples will aid in her healing. She ought to try something more solid at least. An apple a day, at the very least, would do well.” Then Mithlas left Baraves to contemplate how best to use this information.  
  
In the end, she thought of a sweet dessert Tatharien, her husband’s sister-in-love, had been fond of, and she consulted with the other elleth. Tatharien had made it with her own hands, something no noble elleth had been expected to do, when her only child Celepharn fell ill.  
  
“It is called mastorva here in Aman,” Tatharien explained, and as they stood in the kitchen pavilion Lord Irmo had provided, Tatharien led the reluctant Baraves through the steps. “First, we stoke the fire,” she said, “then, while we wait for it to come to the proper temperature for baking, we slice the apples – I will do that, Baraves. We want four cupfuls.” As she sliced, she talked. “This pan needs to be rubbed with butter. I trust you are able to do that? We want just enough to grease it, so the mastorva will not stick to the pan.”  
  
Baraves sighed, but nodded, and went about meticulously greasing the pan. Then Tatharien dumped flour, oats, and a small amount of spices into a bowl, and asked Baraves to mix them thoroughly while she finished slicing the apples. As Baraves stirred, Tatharien measured and layered the cut fruit in the pan. “Good,” she added, checking Baraves’ work approvingly. “Now, sprinkle that over the apples. It is time to bake them.”  
  
The older elleth obeyed, and when the mastorva was nearly done baking, Tatharien asked a passing Maia to fetch cream for her, having noted the tabard of Irmo without taking in the Maia’s identity.  
  
“As you wish, Daughter,” came the amused reply, and the distracted Tatharien looked up to see it was Melian she had so importuned. She blushed rosily. “My Queen…”  
  
“Oh, fear not, Child,” Melian laughed. “I am not at all offended. Nothing done in love is ever menial. Remember that, Daughter,” she added, looking this time at Baraves. Then she was gone, and back in a moment with the jug of cream. Melian took the pan from the oven herself. “Ah, mastorva,” she said, eyes brightening, “that was a favourite of Lúthien’s, too, you know. I am sure young Celebrían will be quite happy with it. Shall I take it to her?” She cut a generous piece, placing it in a bowl and pouring cream over the top.  
  
“If you would like to, my Queen,” Baraves replied, nonplused.  
  
“I think so,” Melian said cheerfully. “Well done, Daughters.” She faded from their view, the bowl in hand, and reappeared in Celebrían’s pavilion.  
  
Celebrían sat up as the scent of apples, cream, nutmeg and cinnamon wafted through her tent. “Oh, Aunt Melian!” she exclaimed. Then she frowned. “Oh. Aunt Melian. Did Daernaneth send you?” She wondered how much trouble she was in, and if perhaps Melian meant to eat the contents of the bowl in front of her as punishment for her recalcitrance earlier.  
  
“I sent myself, best beloved,” Melian replied. “Now, your Daernana and Aunt Tatharien made this for you. So let us see if you can stomach it, hmm?” She produced a spoon from somewhere, and placed the bowl on a tray across Celebrían’s lap. Carefully, the elleth began eating, and her eyes lit up. “This is wonderful, Aunt Melian,” she said happily, eating with good appetite. “How did you convince Daernana to let me have this?”  
  
“Your Daernana cares for your wants more than you think, best beloved,” Melian replied. “But she cares even more that you keep the will to live – as do I.”  
  
Celebrían sobered and stared down into the bowl, scraping the cream idly from the sides. “It hurts,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I…do not want to.”  
  
Melian nodded and kissed Celebrían’s brow. “I know, Child. But we all love you very much, and in time, the pain will fade – if you give it the chance. Take it one day at a time.”  
  
“I will,” Celebrían whispered.  
  
“Good.” Melian made the tray and bowl vanish, sat down on the bed and hugged the elleth close. “I promise, best beloved, you will never have anything to fear from me – unless you attempt to fade,” she added, an ominous undertone making itself plain.  
  
Celebrían winced.  
  
“No, my lady. You have my word.”  
  
“Then I think perhaps tomorrow, some more mastorva can be arranged, hmm? But for now, I will leave you to your rest.” Melian tucked Celebrían in again, and sang the elleth a lullaby – the same that heartened Lord Námo’s charges so – until she fell asleep.  
  
This Child, she felt, could and would be saved. All of Lórien seemed to breathe easier at the realisation.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe – Tatharien’s Mastorva (Betty Crocker Apple Crisp http://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes/apple-crisp/3715a45c-3c00-430c-bbe2-9865f9013238 )
> 
> 4 medium tart cooking apples, sliced (4 cups)
> 
> ¾ cup packed brown sugar
> 
> ½ cup Gold Medal™ all-purpose flour
> 
> ½ cup quick-cooking or old-fashioned oats
> 
> 1/3 cup butter or margarine, softened
> 
> ¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon
> 
> ¾ teaspoon ground nutmeg
> 
> Cream or Ice cream, if desired  
> Directions  
> 1\. Heat oven to 375ºF. Grease bottom and sides of 8-inch square pan with shortening.
> 
> 2\. Spread apples in pan. In medium bowl, stir remaining ingredients except cream until well mixed; sprinkle over apples.
> 
> 3\. Bake about 30 minutes or until topping is golden brown and apples are tender when pierced with a fork. Serve warm with cream.


	10. Daughters of Doriath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mother-in-law and daughter-in-law come together for the first time at the Bird-haven. POV shifts between Celebrian's own thoughts and third-person.

_Aunt Melian suggested I make the journey, now that I have regained my strength, to the Tower of Aewellond, where the seabirds flock round, day and night. I have been warmly welcomed by the gatewardens of the settlement, though I know not how their Lord and Lady will perceive me...._

 

"Our Lord is absent," Falathar said, and Celebrian smiled faintly as she realised what the Elf meant. "Oh, yes...of course," she agreed. "Your Lady...she will receive me?"

 

Falathar and his companion, Erellont, nodded affirmation. "She is expecting you even now, beloved Lady. It has been long since she has seen aught of her kindred."

 

It was Erellont who had spoken, and Celebrian graced him with a shy smile. "I hope she will not expect too much of me," she murmured, and their rearguard, Aearandir, laughed merrily, casting her a reassuring look. "Nay, Lady, she will not force her expectations on others. She will be pleased to see you, and to know you."

 

_So it proved. It took many days for us to reach Aewellond; it was situated in and around a cavern by the seashore, near to the Tower where Elwing had dwelt betimes. It appeared that now the Lord of Aewellond and its Lady lived not in the tower itself, but in a grand house near to the structure. The edifice was built mainly of sandstone and limestone, both of which occurred naturally in the region._

_When I was conducted into the grand house...I could not quite call it a mansion, but near enough...I was met first of all by an elleth who was clearly of Sindarin descent. She gave me her obeisance and greeted us in the name of Lady Elwing. "I am Saelrien," she said, "the Lady's chief attendant, and she is waiting to receive you, Lady Celebrian." That gave me pause._

_I understood that I had been expected, but as yet, I did not understand how so. As far as I knew, it had been my idea to visit my kinswoman...or had it? Narrowing my eyes suspiciously, I glanced around as though my scrutiny might reveal a hidden Maia who had turned my thoughts to such a plan, and forewarned Elwing of my coming._

 

 

A merry laugh interrupted Celebrian's suspicious thoughts. "Well, now...are you just going to stand on my doorstep, or do you intend to come in?" Celebrian turned sharply to find the Lady of Aewellond standing in the doorway. Her dark hair flowed down her back, unadorned save for two dark plaits which had been secured round the crown of her head, pale pink rosebuds threaded through them. She wore an overgown of pink and blue silk, the colors shading into each other until Celebrian could not tell where one ended and the other began. The sleeves, tight to the wrist, were slashed and the sides of Elwing's gown were slit to the hips so her undergown of pale green was visible. The same green trimmed the hem, sleeves and collar of Elwing's overgown, and Celebrian thought all in all, the soft colors suited Elwing very well.

 

Blushing, Celebrian nodded and came to meet the Lady. "I am sorry, Lady Elwing," she said softly. "I did not mean to present myself improperly." Elwing shook her head and smiled gently at Celebrian.

 

"Enough of that, now. I was hoping you would be able to help me, my child," Elwing murmured. "I know you seek a purpose, now you are healing, and I would give you one." Celebrian blinked; once, twice. "What do you know about my thoughts? Meaning no disrespect," she added hastily, blushing again.

 

"Oh yes, you did," Elwing said wryly, eyes sparkling with mirth. "A more opinionated young hoyden of a tomboyish elleth I've not heard of...save for myself," she allowed, "much to Saelrien's eternal dismay," she added, laughing again as Saelrien threw her a long-suffering look.

 

"I wish I was back in Mandos," Saelrien muttered. "Two of you? You might as well just put me back there at once." All of a sudden the temperature of the room seemed to drop, and all six of them...Elwing, Celebrian, Saelrien and the three ellyn...froze as the Lord of Mandos appeared before them.

 

"What is this, Daughter?" he said mildly, though all those present could hear the hint of steel in his tone, and Saelrien winced visibly. "What hast thou been told about wishing such on thyself?"   
"I'm sorry, Lord...I did not mean..." Saelrien dropped her gaze.

  
"But thou didst, if only for a moment," Namo said gravely. "What would thy lady think if thou hadst managed to leave her?" Tears pooled in Saelrien's eyes, and she began to weep freely.

  
"I'm sorry, my lord...my lady..."  
"Hush now, Saelrien," Elwing said, gathering her distraught companion in her arms and holding her tightly. "It is well, I promise. Thou hast not left me," she said, speaking more formally. "Thou shalt not leave me, but remain true to my service and thine oath, is it not so?" Saelrien could only nod.

 

"I am sorry," Saelrien whispered, going to her knees in supplication before the Vala and her lady. "I will not treat my re-embodiment so lightly again."   
"Then all is well between me and thee, Daughter," Elwing said solicitously, giving the kneeling Saelrien a kiss on the brow, liege to vassal. Saelrien, not reeling from shock as much, thought the term rather incongruous...after all, she had raised Elwing from infancy. But she did not contest the term.

 

 

_I watched this drama play out before me, and at the last, I could not help laughing. I managed to stifle it, but not quickly enough, for Lady Elwing turned to me reprovingly. "Come here, Daughter," she said, and I blushed. Of course, she had every right to call *me* so, and I could not question it as Saelrien might. She gestured for Saelrien to rise, and the elleth stepped out of the way as I stood before Lady Elwing._

 

_"Did you find something amusing?" Elwing asked, in the tone I vow she must have learnt from the Vala who so recently stood before us. Speaking of Hir Namo...I glanced around, and saw no sign of him. "W-where did..."_   
_"Hir Namo's business is not mine," Lady Elwing said. "Perhaps he is off seeing to preventing the collision of galaxies elsewhere in Ea." I blinked._

  
_"What?"_

  
_Elwing waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind. I have no real idea of what it means, just something the Valar have discussed with Earendil previously." Uncertainly, I nodded._

  
_"So," she resumed without preamble, "did you find something particularly amusing?" I squirmed._   
_"Well...not exactly, my lady...er..." Elwing was shaking her head at me in disapproval._   
_"I am not your lady, Celebrian. Try again."_

_"My Princess?"_   
_Elwing looked at me in exasperation. "Elfling..."_   
_The tone reminded me so of my own naneth that I responded without thinking. "Yes, Nana..." My eyes widened and I turned away._   
_"'Cousin' will do, if you like," Elwing replied, a sympathetic smile on her face as she turned me to face her. "You miss her."_   
_"Very much," I said softly. "She was the strongest elleth I knew. A leader never to be denied." I paused. "Except maybe by Niniel."_

_"Niniel," Elwing muttered wryly. "I remember Aunt Galadriel. Of course I remember Niniel. She and Saelrien got on splendidly."_   
_"But...Saelrien's a Sinda!" I sputtered. "Yes," Elwing said softly. "She is." A meaningful look passed between us, and I turned to look at Saelrien, eyes widening as I understood. "Sirion."_   
_"Sirion," Elwing agreed, tears in her own eyes._

_Niniel had once had a friend among the Sindar, then...I slowly followed my former nurse's logic, if it could be called that, piecing together the chain of events. Saelrien had died at Sirion. Perhaps Niniel had even seen it happen. And the Sindar who died at Sirion were slain because of the Silmaril. The Silmaril that rightly belonged to Feanor, though Niniel did not agree that it was right to kill to get it. She did say the Sindar were fools for not handing it over, though, and had brought it on themselves...especially...I winced, not wanting to finish that sentence even in my head._   
_"I know she blamed me, and no doubt my sons," Elwing said softly. I sighed and nodded. "She...um, never did think much of Elrond." I sighed. "I am sorry."_

_"There is no need for apologies. Let there be peace and friendship between us," Elwing replied. "And to business, if you are agreeable, Cousin."_   
_I nodded. "There has been a little too much excitement today," I admitted ruefully. Elwing poured three goblets of wine from a decanter and the three of us sat at the table together. "I am afraid things may often be exciting, my dear," she said, laughing softly._

_"I am not particularly used to things being that exciting, unless the excitement is instigated by elflings," I said, and Elwing smiled. "Well, we certainly have plenty of those, whether they are elflings in truth or not. Many of our number are those who have been Reborn, such as Saelrien," she explained. "Most of them died at Sirion, but others died at Doriath or Gondolin. Nearly all of them claimed Aran Thingol, or Earendil's grandfather Turgon, as their lord."_   
_I nodded cautiously. "And what do you want with me concerning these...elflings?" I asked warily._

_"Be there for them," Elwing said simply. "Teach them what it is to live again. It has been long since you claimed a position of leadership."_   
_"But I do not want..."_   
_"You wanted a purpose, Cousin," Elwing said reprovingly. "I have given you the one ordained for you."_   
_"I can try," I replied. Elwing smiled._   
_"And that is all the Valar...and Iluvatar...ever ask of us," she replied. "I will help you get settled in."_   
_"Thank you." And with that, I followed Elwing as she brought me to the suite she'd had prepared; soon, I would meet my charges. Well, this was certainly a new adventure..._


	11. Changing Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Aewellond, home of Earendil and Elwing, an unfortunate incident will make the Mariner late for his nightly round...

She knelt on the deck, carefully picking up the shards of glass. Why did it have to be  _this_ one that broke? she thought, grimacing. Any other ship's lantern...but this one... _this one_...She frowned. The lamp had been hallowed by the Valar themselves. Why would it have shattered now? The Lady of Aewellond's brow creased, and she sat down on a barrel, deep in thought. Staring down at the shards and splinters in her hand, it came to her.

 

"It's gone!" Realisation slammed into Elwing, making her laugh in disbelief. " _Gone_..." Shoulders shaking, she asked herself how in the names of the Valar the Silmaril could have been  _stolen_ from Vingilot.

 

Oh,  _where_ was Earendil when she needed him? Valar spare her from whatever habits he'd learnt up there from Tilion!

 

"Neri!" she grumbled.

 

"Nasie!" Celebrian laughed, joining her on the deck. Then she saw the shattered lamp. "What..."

 

"I would rather like to know that myself..." Elwing grumbled.

 

The two gave each other measuring looks.

 

"Celebrian, have all of Aewellond searched."

 

"Yes, Naneth." Celebrian kissed her mother-in-love's cheek and departed on her errand.

 

Meanwhile, secreted in the tallest tower of Aewellond, a young Noldo stared at the prize in his hand...

 

 


	12. Hidden Jewel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcarin thinks about what to do next with his prize.

_Meanwhile, secreted in the tallest tower of Aewellond, a young Noldo stared at the prize in his hand **...**_ A prize the grandson of Feanor had come by unfairly, he reflected. Stealing it so audaciously...in broad daylight, though there was no one about to see. No one drew near the Vingilot when she was in harbor save for the Mariner himself and his wife, and Earendil's three companions. No one dared disturb her when she was alone. Except for him. He had violated the hallow...taken the jewel.

 

 _Wouldn't you be so proud of me, Anatar!_ Alcarin exulted silently, though his pride was only half-hearted; a vision of disappointed grey eyes swam before his eyes, and he faltered. Trembling, the young Reborn froze as he remembered his travels with Elwing. She had been so good to take him in when they had left Formenos together, though Earendil had looked at him askance.  _Are you sure?_ he could swear the Mariner had said. _One of the Dispossessed?_ Perhaps Alcarin had imagined that look...but no, he was sure the Mariner distrusted him. And why not?  _Why not?_ Elwing had convinced her husband that Alcarin would behave. And yet...

 

 _Look at how you repay your hostess and saviour, Alcarin!_ Artanis' voice, laden with disappointment, flooded his mind.  _Look what you have done, Cousin...I thought I had turned you from that path..._ "Well, it didn't save me, did it?" Alcarin didn't realize he'd shouted...or that he was no longer alone...until he heard a disappointed sigh from the doorway of the chamber.

 

"Alcarin...I thought you knew better. I thought Nana had turned you away from that." Alcarin looked up to see the disappointed eyes he had been visualizing...but framed by silver tresses, not gold. Celebrian walked toward him, shaking her head. "Enough, Alcarin. You have taken what is not yours." And for a moment, Alcarin wondered whether he had taken it, or it had taken him...and whether he could surrender the jewel in any case. A moment that seemed to hang in the balance eternally...and finally, he made his choice.

 


	13. Judgement Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcarin must face the consequences of his actions.

Kneeling before Celebrian in supplication, the Reborn Noldo cast his eyes down. "I have sinned greatly," he said quietly, "and though the Valar rendered their Judgement and declared me forgiven, yet I let the memory of my past life and the Oath keep hold of me. Forgiveness I would ask of you, Celebrian of Imladris, if you would so grant it."

 

"Forgiveness has already been given, Alcarin," Celebrian said, ignoring the Silmaril in his hand. A white bird had been observing from the sill of the tower room's single window, and Elwing resumed her proper shape, taking the jewel as the young thief wept before them.

 

"Forgiveness has indeed been given," Elwing intoned. "But that forgiveness has been spurned, child of Morifinwe Curufinwion." Alcarin flinched.

 

"What is thy judgement upon me, Lady?" Alcarin whispered, bowing before her, his hands clenched.

 

"Forgiveness is not thine, for thou hast not respect for it," Elwing said, and the Light in her eyes made Alcarin remember just who Elwing's great-grandmother was as she spoke.

 

"Forgiveness is not thine, but Mercy shall be thy lot, Morifinwion." That was not Elwing. Alcarin jumped as the scent of a pine forest in summer breezed through the tower and suddenly  _everything_ was too bright to look at. He threw himself to the ground as Queen Melian appeared. Melian looked down on the cowering Noldo.

 

"It is forgotten. Let this matter be held redressed."

 

Alcarin let out a squeak of surprise. "F-forgotten...my lady? B-but why?"

 

Melian gave him a hard look. "Because, Child, this Oath nonsense has gone far enough...and if you are truly sorry, then, frankly, these Daughters of mine have far better things to be doing than dealing further with this. Events occur in the Hither Lands that need addressing far more than you do. Try not to think yourself the center of Ea."

 

Alcarin found himself blushing, and nodded.

 

"Then go with Celebrian and assist her. My great-granddaughter and I must speak alone." The dismissal was so final that neither Celebrian or Alcarin dared to disobey. They gave the Maia their obeisance and hastened out of the tower.

 

"Well, that is settled," Melian muttered. "Now, then, my dear. Earendil has told you of the children of Yavanna who hold the weapon of the Nameless, and this is where my lords will need you..."

 

Elwing listened as Melian spoke on, sending a silent prayer to the Valar that Alcarin would not be any more trouble. Or, at the  _very_ least, any  _worse_ trouble.

 

 _*Nasie!*_ she 'heard' Melian bespeak her in agreement, and Elwing managed a wan smile.


End file.
